


Grief

by EmperorsVornskr



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29707140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmperorsVornskr/pseuds/EmperorsVornskr
Summary: Garrus is struggling with keeping his grief under control after the loss of his mother, the destruction of Palaven, and the stress of not knowing whether his father and sister are alive- and as always, Shepard is his rock.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Kudos: 22





	Grief

**Author's Note:**

> Older work but I still really like it, and I'm having Mass Effect feels lately.

Things were almost the same as he had left them. The battery still had that comforting red ambient lighting, and had that comforting thrum from the main gun. There was more room now, more consoles and work benches. Even room for a better bed, if he decided to move one in there- the Alliance didn’t know he practically lived in there, obviously. The last time he’d been on the Normandy when it was Alliance owned, he’d been in the shuttle bay with Wrex, working on the Mako. It didn’t matter, though. 

The Cerberus crew had worked with him-hell, Kelly had flirted with him, and Ken and Gabby had been flat out nice and accepting- but there’d been a handful of people that had given him looks, muttered behind closed doors. An alien, working with them. A turian, at that. He wasn’t welcome amongst the whisperers, and he’d known it. He’d seen the forced smiles that didn’t reach their eyes when he came to the mess hall to grab his shitty dextro-based dinner. He’d heard their gripes, seen the messages floating between them. He knew as soon as their mission was done, if they didn’t leave the Normandy, he would have to. He knew Cerberus would never give the Normandy back to their resurrected Shepard- who hated Cerberus with a passion.

He smiled a bit at the thought. Ellen Shepard had hated Cerberus, and had smiled sweetly in their faces, and had gone about the mission pretending to like what they were doing. She sassed the Illusive Man, but to an outsider’s view, she liked and agreed with him. Garrus knew better. He knew her too well to believe the front she put up for their pro-human benefactors. He didn’t believe for a second that she’d go with their ideas willingly.

He was right. She came and found him in the battery after he’d settled in, recovering from his wounds. He sat there patiently while she seethed, pacing, throwing her hands in the air. He’d watched her, looking her over as she did, letting her blow off steam as she hissed and spat about having to work for the group that got her men killed at Akuze.

She still looked like Ellen. Still had the fiery red hair, the glinting grey green eyes. Her nose was off- it was straight. The Ellen he knew had a crooked nose from breaking it somewhere in her past. The scars on her face were no longer the pale lines across her eyebrow and cheek- they were now cracked, angrily glowing red fissures in her skin that showed the implants underneath. Cybernetic implants that had helped rebuild her formerly dead body. 

He shook his head, getting out of those thoughts. The Normandy was where it belonged- back with the Alliance, with Joker in the pilot’s seat, and Ellen in command. There were new faces, but those new faces were just as scared as anyone else, and when they looked at him, the smiles were genuine, albeit stressed about the Reapers. The Alliance knew about him, and accepted him as one of their own. With them, the Normandy felt like home again. Now all he needed was Wrex grumbling in the shuttle bay and Tali in Engineering, pinging him about the crappy dextro food. (Which, admittedly, was better this time around.)

He leaned over the console and though he knew he wasn’t going to get an answer, he tried to ping his father again. Only static answered him. Another ping- this time on Solana’s frequency. More static with bits of dead air. He slammed his fist on the console, gritting his teeth before pressing his face into his arms. He’d already lost his mother. His home world was burning. The city he was born in was a smoldering ruin. How much more was he going to lose before this was over?

“Garrus?”

He didn’t lift his head. Had that been anyone else’s voice, he would have growled and hissed at them to get out and leave him be. He knew that voice better than any other in this galaxy- now that the one he had known best was silent. A soft hand lighted on his shoulder, and still he didn’t lift his head, his mandibles working furiously. The warm, five fingered hand rand down his arm and dipped between his face and upper arm, cupping his cheek as her wiry form pressed against him. A shudder ran through him and his forehead pressed against the console as he drank in her presence and he lifted a hand to cover hers.

“El.”

She made a thrumming sound in her throat and pressed her cheek to his shoulder, wrapping her other arm around his waist. She said nothing more- she didn’t need to, and she knew it. Another reminder of how things had grown, flourished between them, in that even after six months of being apart, she didn’t need to say anything to him to make him feel content. She was balm to his open wounds.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, Ellen giving him time to recollect himself, waiting for the pain of whatever it was he was going through to subside enough to talk to her. Ellen Shepard may have been a hotheaded Vanguard, preferring to charge first, ask questions later, but with him, she was always reasonably patient, tender and understanding. For now, he soaked in that affection like sunlight, simply relishing that she was close to him again. He’d been worried that she’d have second thoughts about the two of them, that she’d only spent that night with him out of desperation. 

The way she leaned on him, the gentle fingers that stroked his scars, and the content sound she made as she rested her cheek against his shoulder reassured him that she was having no second thoughts about him. Her silent affection numbed him enough to finally lift his head and turn to look at her. Her green eyes were looking at him in concern, and he was alarmed to see her scars had faded a bit. He reached out and stroked her face gently, and she darted in to nuzzle his cheek. He wrapped his arms around her, crushing her against his chest.

“What’s wrong, Garrus?” She asked softly. He noticed she didn’t ask if he was okay. She knew he wasn’t. He knew she wasn’t. He exhaled shakily, trailing his claws over the soft fabric of the N7 hoodie she wore, feeling the subtle curves of her torso underneath, and her heartbeat under his fingertips before answering.

“I….” he trailed off, his throat hitching, and he pressed his face into her thick red hair. 

Ellen said nothing, kissing his throat gently, still stroking the scars on the side of his face, fingers trailing over the remnants of his clan markings. She waited, patiently as she always did when he needed time to verbalize what he was feeling. As always, he couldn’t thank her enough for her silent support. He found his voice again, but still kept his face pressed in her tresses, taking comfort in the soft, cool scent of her hair- she still used that spearmint and tea tree oil shampoo. The scent always invoked images of what he thought Earth looked like, mixed with stories Ellen told him- crisp green grass, rolling hills and towering trees with clear blue skies. 

“I don’t know how much more I can lose before I lose the fight in me, El,” he finally murmured into her hair, hands wrapping around her waist- and he noticed she had a bit more meat on her, much to his pleased relief. Ellen had been neglectful in her dietary habits when the SR2 was in Cerberus control, and she’d been horribly thin. Seeing and feeling a touch more curve to her figure was a relief to him. It meant she was healthier. 

Ellen didn’t pull back. She knew he just wanted to hide his face in her hair, avoid eye contact, because he was close to breaking. She remained silent, but kept caressing his face as she nuzzled his neck. He wanted to tell her how much these little things meant to her, but if he changed the topic, he’d never talk about this again, and he’d never start to heal.

“I…I lost my mother a few months before the Reapers began destroying my home. She died from Corpalis…I did everything I could to help. I sent money to Salarian researchers, Collector tissue samples… but it wasn’t enough…” he trailed off, his throat choking up again, and he tightened his grip on Ellen. 

“I don’t know what’s worse, El,” he continued, once he got his throat unstuck. “Dying of a decaying nervous system, or dying during a Reaper attack and seeing your home- a home you built with your spouse- burning. I don’t know which way of dying was worse… and I couldn’t save her either way. And now I don’t even know if my family- my father or my sister- is alive or dead. I….I don’t even have a home anymore.”

He’d seen humans and Asari cry before- he’d only seen Ellen cry twice, and it was only in front of him, and no one else- and he’d always been alarmed by the tears. Something about them scared him. That emotion could be so powerful, so painful, that their bodies had a physical reaction. Now, he saw it was a form of release. Release he wish he had- Turians didn’t shed tears. They couldn’t. He wished he could- tears would be less embarrassing than the soft keening sound coming from his throat right now, that he was trying so hard to suppress. 

“Garrus.”

Her voice was soft, sympathetic, a gentle thrum against his throat. A single word, but the way her voice shook, the way her arms tightened around his ribs, it spoke volumes. The simple utterance of his name broke him, and he was grateful that the doors to the battery shut, that she was there, telling him with more than words, that it was okay to grieve. So he did. He stopped holding back, and let his grief take over as he crumpled to the floor, taking Ellen with him as he pressed his face into her neck.

Ellen was trying very hard to stay calm. To ignore how much his pain was hurting her. She had to stay strong for him. But the truth was, when he crumpled to the floor, her heart ached for him. She clung to him, giving him the silent support he needed. 

Then he made that god damned sound.

She knew turians couldn’t cry- that they didn’t shed tears- but she didn’t know what they did in place of tears. They keened, like wounded birds. Garrus was making one of the most upsetting sounds she’d ever heard come from a living creature. A keen of loss, and fear that shook his frame as he clung to her. She was now experiencing this first hand, and her heart was breaking. She’d always seen Garrus as invincible- even a missile to the face didn’t stop him- and unstoppable. She’d always seen him as her steadying force, her rock. And now, this immovable, invincible turian was crying out with a pain she didn’t think possible, and it cut her to the very core. Her Garrus, her lover, was crying out in pain, and it was ripping her to shreds.

“…baby, I…I’m so…sorry just seems so…" 

She couldn’t finish. Even as she uttered the word ‘sorry,’ her throat closed up painfully, and tears spilled from her eyes and over her cheeks. She clutched at him as desperately as he clung to her, and felt as though she’d failed him when she started to cry, a sob escaping her. 

This was all her fault. If she’d convinced the Council, they would have had more time. If they’d had more time, Garrus wouldn’t be in pain to the point of keening in misery in her arms. She had no family back on Earth, but her crew, Garrus, they were her family, and because everything she’d done hadn’t been enough, their families now suffered. She sobbed into his shoulder- for him, his family that she might never meet, for the grief of her failure to protect him from this pain.

Garrus was surprised, even through his haze of grief, that Ellen was crying, which only fueled his pain. He wasn’t sure why she was crying, but he was positive she wasn’t coping well with seeing him like this. He couldn’t stop, though. Not yet. He’d been holding this pain inside for months. With the Reaper attacks, he never had time to grieve. Now, he was letting out months of mourning. He mourned his mother, his home, and hopes and dreams- both new and old.

He had wanted to take Ellen home to meet his mother, his sister. He wanted to show his father that even as a Spectre, Ellen was everything he could ever want in a lover. He wanted to watch Ellen and his mother talk about their common love of music and literature, exchanging titles from their respective cultures. He wanted to show her his home world, meet childhood friends. He didn’t want to show her off because she was Commander Shepard. He wanted to show her off as his lover because he loved what she was, what she’d done. He had wanted to tell her he loved her, and while his family watched, he wanted to ask her to be his wife. His mother had gently teased him to mask her sadness, that she wanted to see him with a spouse before she died. Now she never would. Two months too late. Ellen had made it as far as Menae, just in time to see his home burning, his people in chaos.

Garrus clung to Ellen, who despite her own sobs, sat up tall, letting him grasp at her like the lifeline she was. Even in their shared moment of pain, she was the stronger one who held them both above water. 

He wasn’t sure how much time passed as they both cried in their own way. Minutes? Hours? He couldn’t tell, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t leave his side. He could tell by the way her side twitched that her leg was falling asleep, and he could smell copper and salt from where his claws had dug through her hoodie and pierced her sides, but she never moved. She stayed. For him.

"Ellen…,” he finally choked out, moving his hands from her waist. 

The scent of copper and salt grew stronger in the battery as his talons withdrew from the wounds he’d made, but still, she made no move to leave him. She leaned back to press her forehead against his, her nose brushing against his tenderly, her hands stroking his quivering mandibles. Her face was hot, cheeks flushed and eyes red and swollen, her lips quivering and battered from where she’d bit them in her attempts to bite back her own cries. Her cheeks were stained with tear tracks, and she’d wiped her runny nose on her hoodie sleeve, her hair a mess from when he’d attempted to bury his face into it. She looked away, scrubbing at her face. Garrus moved a hand to her cheek and made her look at him.

“D-don’t. I’m a god damned mess,” she complained feebly, her voice still thick with tears. Garrus pulled her into his lap, noticing that they both were suffering from hiccups from crying in their own way. Her ribcage was wracked violently from them. Garrus rubbed her sides gently- he’d seen her cry to the point of violent hiccups twice now, and even though he knew there was nothing he could do about them, despite his own hiccups, it still frightened him. 

“You’re not a mess, El. You’re beautiful,” he murmured. 

They both fell silent, and Ellen curled up against him, sniffling. Garrus briefly thought about applying medi-gel to her wounds, but knew her- he knew she’d want the scars. It was hard to believe they’d been apart for six months. He’d almost thought that perhaps she wouldn’t want to stay with him, but after this, he didn’t doubt her affection for him. Still…..

“El?”

She stirred in his arms, looking up at him with her bloodshot eyes.

“Mm?”

He hesitated, his mandibles flaring as he slid fingers through her thick hair-spirits, her hair was odd, but he loved it. His talons ran lightly over her scalp, and her eyes closed, damp eyelashes resting on her cheeks as she let out a shaky sound of appreciation. 

“I… I missed you, El,” he rumbled softly.

She didn’t open her eyes, leaning into his touch, her form still shaking as hiccups wracked her ribs. 

“I thought about you almost every day, Garrus. It was hard sleeping at night without you,” she countered, hands finding the back of his neck, deft soft fingers stroking under his fringe and earning a purr.

“So it’s safe to assume you want us to keep being….us?”

His response was her bitten, bloody and swollen lips pressing against his cheek, her arms wrapping around his neck.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckled weakly, hiccuping. She buried her face in his neck again.

“I’m sorry, Garrus. I-” Another hiccup. “I wish I could have met her.”

He tightened his arms around her, fighting back a small keen. He felt a lot better having vented, but the wounds were still fresh. It would take time- most likely time they didn’t have- until he healed.

“It isn’t your fault, El. And…she would have liked you,” he hiccuped. “Hell, she would have loved you.”

Her fingers stilled under his fringe as she hiccuped.

“Even though I couldn’t give her grandkids? That’s what moms want, right?”

Garrus’ chest hitched.

“She…did want grandkids. At first. But….she just wanted to see me happy with a-” He hiccuped. “-a spouse.”

Ellen was silent, her breath extremely hot and raw against his neck- something Garrus always wondered at. The last two times she’d cried on his shoulder, her breath had turned ragged, heated and raw. It scared him seeing her cry- he worried she was hurting herself. He also wondered if he’d scared her with the mention of his mother wanting to see him with a spouse.

“W-well,” she answered, swallowing another hiccup. “We’ll have to see how things go…. you aren’t planning to-” Another hiccup. “-spend all your time in the battery, are you?”

It was weak, but he managed a small chuckle.

“I noticed my cot’s not in here anymore,” he rumbled.

“That’s 'cause I told them not to put it there,” she snorted. She flicked her eyes at the pile of his things, still packed. “Stay with me.”

Garrus pulled back and looked her in the eye. The thought of staying with her every night, having her in his arms, sleeping in her bed, the chances of catching her in the shower, watching her sleep, laying in bed and looking up through the window on the ceiling…it was too tempting. He immediately thought of what the Alliance would say. Insubordination? Fraternization? What would they think? Would it make her look bad?

“You sure, El?”

She seemed to read his mind- as she always did.

“Garrus, you’re former C-Sec, advisor to Turian military, and a Turian,” she stated, a hint of amusement in her tear-ravaged voice. “It’s hardly fraternization, and I would think insubordination was disobeying orders…I could-” she hiccuped. “-order you to my bed, if you want to take it that far.”

Garrus tried to laugh, but his throat was still tight, so he settled for pulling her to him, pressing his mouth to her ear.

“Well, I’ve always been a horrible Turian, Commander,” he growled. “Would hate to ruin my streak.”

She let out a hoarse barking sound he realized was laughter.

“Good,” She sighed, closing her eyes and pressing against him. “Good.”

They sat on the floor, against the console, wrapped around each other. Their wounds were fresh, their grief still strong, but the pressure was gone. They’d finally cried their pain to each other. Ellen sighed again as she rested her cheek against his chest, taking in his scent, listening to his heartbeat as it slowly calmed its frantic pace. He ran his talons over her back, and she squirmed happily, shudders running down her spine.

“Garrus?”

“Mm?”

“Welcome home.”


End file.
